


Through Time and Space

by Hidden_Pineapple



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Homesickness, Langst, M/M, Mostly just friendship stuff, Prompt Fill, Space cookies, klangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hidden_Pineapple/pseuds/Hidden_Pineapple
Summary: Prompt: -We all know Lance is homesick. But what happens when Pidge figures out how to make an accurate calendar of earth? Lance realizes just how much he’s missed. And even then, its only the tip of the iceberg. (...)What happens when you write too long past midnight.





	Through Time and Space

Lance is so sick of space. Almost too sick of space. Space is rad, no doubt about that, but it’s all the same. There’s no variation. Just stars, upon stars, upon endless stars, strewn with some planets and some comets here and there, and the odd enemy Galra base. Apart from that? 98% emptiness, according to Pidge. Yeah. That’s pretty dull.

He’s sitting in the cafeteria, watching Hunk and Pidge cook…something. Most of what Hunk makes comes out incredible and delicious, if you just wait around long enough. But cooking with alien space ingredients is not exactly mastered in one day, or…well, however long they’ve been out here.

“Hey, guys?”

Hunk and Pidge look up, Hunk’s hands busy squeezing something out on a tray.

“How long do you think we have been in space?”

Pidge’s eyebrows knit together. “I’m actually not sure. The days do sort of blend together, don’t they?”

Hunk nods, and continues his work. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like weekdays matter anymore. We don’t have the lectures that we did at the academy, we don’t have any TV channels to watch, and we don’t even have day and night. It’s just been one endlessly long trek since we set out on this.”

Lance can’t help but laugh. “Wow, Hunk, never knew you were such a philosopher.”

Pidge pulls a face. “I’d hardly call that philosophizing. It’s just stating the facts. But you know what? You’ve got me curious. I’m gonna go look into it. It’d be interesting to know.” Pidge promptly picks up the book that’s been left idle on the table for the past half hour, and disappears out the door.

“OK, it wasn’t that important, but whatever.” Lance picks on a scab on his hand. Could’ve been rid of the wound entirely by stepping into a healing pod, but it seemed silly for something so small. “So, Hunk, watcha’ making there?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I was trying to make cookies. I have no idea how they’re gonna turn out though; I asked Coran, and he’d never heard about Macadamia nuts before, so this is as exciting for me as it is for you.” Hunk shrugs, and wipes his hands on his apron. When they first got here, and had their first prolonged period of time without Galra assault or other complications, Hunk had more or less camped out in the kitchen. Not that Lance complained; among all the inevitable failures of space cooking, there were some real gems, too. Keith, the jerk, had called it a waste of time, and suggested they spend the time training instead – Lance wanted to punch his face, but instead Hunk had responded that you can’t fight if you’re starving. Keith had nodded at that, and never mentioned it again.

“Hey, maybe it’d be fun to gather everyone to eat together,” Hunk comments.

“That...would actually be really nice,” Lance agrees. “I’ll start rounding up the gang.”

“Awesome!”

Lance gets up, and heads out.

The castle/ship is quiet. Almost eerily so. Lance thinks back on when they thought it was haunted. That sure was creepy. If he’s being perfectly honest, the feeling of hauntedness never really left him. Maybe he’s just a nervous kind of guy. Or maybe the ship is just actually haunted. Lance squares his shoulders and resists the urge to look back. He resists it yet again. Not 2 seconds later, he has to look. It’s empty, of course; he knew that. But it doesn’t hurt to check. They’ve been ambushed from the inside before.

He gets to the training hall, and pushes the switch to open the doors. Unsurprisingly, Keith is there; he’s in his weird Galra soldier getup; the black suit with purple lights. It looks sort of funny, but the glowing lines tracing down his neck and across his chest are pretty cool. Keith is so absorbed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t notice Lance has entered the room. Naturally, Lance decides to sneak up on him.

With a smug grin, he tip-toes from the door and along the wall until he’s as close to Keith as he can get without passing by his line of sight. 3 running steps from the wall and out on the floor, silent and agile as a cat –

“BOO!” He grasps both of Keith’s shoulders, and Keith jumps about three feet into the air, shouting, then swinging his blade around and lashing out.

Lance ducks at the very last minute, eyes wide, and watches as a few strands of hair fall to the floor. “Oh my God, Keith, you could’ve killed me! Jesus, careful where you wave that thing!”

Keith looks ready to murder him. He’s breathing hard, training dummy forgotten. “What the hell is wrong with you.” He doesn’t even pose it as a question. It’s more of a sneer, really.

“I, uh – oof,” Lance grunts. Keith kicked him right in the stomach, in a moment’s inattention. “That’s…rude…” he wheezes.

“Yeah? So is trying to give me a heart attack, moron.” Keith doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“My bad,” Lance gasps, trying to stand back up. Air won’t seem to go back to his lungs. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Keith snorts. He turns back around to the dummy, and starts slashing at it.

Lance takes a minute or two to gather himself back up. Watching Keith train is oddly fascinating. He’s actually really good at it – not that Lance would ever admit to that, though.

“You need anything?” Keith’s taken a break in the violent hacking, and wipes his brow as he speaks.

“Not really.”

“So why are you here again?”

“Am I allowed to speak now, or are you gonna kick me in the gut again?” It starts out as a taunt, but after saying it out loud, a small part of him knows he’s genuinely concerned about being dealt another kick.

Keith looks entirely unapologetic as he lifts an eyebrow.

“So, yeah. Hunk is making cookies. Something with nuts. Do you wanna come try them when they’re done?”

To Lance’s surprise, Keith doesn’t immediately decline. “When is that?”

“Fifteen minutes or so, I’d guess.” Lance shrugs.

Keith stares at him with a blank face.

Lance turns his head this way and that, seeing if he follows, but Keith seems to have zoned out. “Hello?” He waves his hand. “Still here.”

Keith blinks. "You know what. You owe me, so now you're going to fight me."

"What? Why!?" Lance can’t hide his look of outrage.

"You threw off my groove!"

“Who the hell cares about your groove. The important part is; what about the cookies? ” Lance states, hands moving animatedly as he poses his question.

“Yeah, yeah, afterwards,” Keith waves it off.

Lance frowns. “But shouldn’t you like…go shower first? I mean, no offense, but you’re kinda sweaty. I don’t really wanna eat alongside your man-sweat.”

Keith laughs, which is kinda weird. “You’ll live,” he replies with a grin. “Now get ready.”

“Hey, wait, I need a weapon,” Lance scrambles to get one, but finds none. The room is entirely empty, apart from Keith, Lance and the training dummy.

“Let us begin.”

Keith lunges forward, and Lance yelps as he takes a quick step back, bringing is upper body backwards to dodge the swinging blade. Keith follows, swinging again, and Lance ducks under his arm as soon as he’s steady on his feet, coming up to Keith’s side. He jabs, hand connecting just under Keith’s lower rib, making him step back. It gives Lance a second to recover.

 _I need to get the blade out of his hand,_ Lance thinks. He eyes Keith warily, as they step around each other. Keith’s gaze is passively fixed on his Adam’s apple, which is creepy as fuck – but it’s also the only place he ever looks when he’s in a fight. “ _Your eyes give away everything you’re planning to do,”_ Keith had told him once. Lance had scoffed, and ignored it altogether. But really, trying to predict what Keith is gonna do next is practically impossible. He has a few small tells, however; he tends to tense his shoulders before he’s gonna swing, and he only ever steps when Lance is mid-step, which makes him pretty easy to bait. But it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking.

Lance decides to make the first move, and goes in swinging. Close combat is not really his forte; out of all the Paladins he’s the sharpshooter, after all. But he grew up with siblings. He was the oldest, yes, but he’s been in enough fights through his school years to know how to brawl his way out of trouble. Problem is; Keith doesn’t brawl. He _fights_ , with precision. Which, really, is why he manages to block each of Lance’s punches with ease. Lance follows with a couple of kicks, trying to hit the hand holding the blade. Keith twists his wrist to keep his grip steady, putting the knife out of Lance’s reach. Then he counters.

He lands a blow in Lance’s stomach – which still hurts like a bitch from his kick early on, thank you – and then adds a kick to his thigh. He’s had a deal lately with kicking Lance just above the knee. It stings, and Lance suspects he’s kicking the exact same bruise he’s been building there for the past few weeks.

“I’m one of the legs, remember? Gonna take a lot more than that to take me down!” Lance yells, returning Keith’s blows, and landing one on his upper arm. Keith winces, but answers quickly. Another wide swing with the knife has Lance scrambling, knocking into something with his back – turning slightly he realizes it’s the training dummy, and hurries around it, tilting it to shield himself from Keith’s next cut. Keith goes wide, and Lance pushes the dummy onto him. It has Keith stumbling, tripping over his own feet – eyeing an opportunity, Lance follows him, kicking and punching in quick succession, finally hitting the blade with the tip of his shoe, kicking it out of Keith’s hand and sending it away in a wide arch. It clatters to the floor not far from the door.

“Hah!” Lance erupts triumphantly.

“Don’t celebrate too soon!” Keith turns to him, not even trying to go for the knife, and comes at him with renewed vigor. He’s a flurry of movement as he follows Lance closely, forcing him back, stepping mostly on his heels to get out of harm’s way. Keith’s right hand shoots out faster than Lance can block it, and he expects the stinging pain – only there is none, and a second later he’s off his feet, and his back collides with the floor, knocking the air out of him. Again. He groans.

Keith holds him down with one arm, kneeling next to him the way he’d done to pull him down in the first place. He’s grinning. “Sucker. You should eat less and train more.”

Lance wheezes, feeling tears in his eyes as he struggles to breathe. “Are you calling me fat?” He gasps out, slowly.

“Only a little,” Keith winks, and pokes his stomach.

“Ngh,” Lance grunts, curling in on himself to shield the essentials.

“Now, stop whining like a baby, and get up, will you?” Keith lightly taps the edge of his shoe to Lance’s butt.

Lance gets on his feet, staggering, and follows Keith towards the door. As Keith picks up his blade, Lance presses the button to open the door.

“So, yeah, thanks for –“

He’s interrupted again, this time by a swift kick to his butt. He stumbles and falls into a heap just outside the door. “What the hell!” He turns and looks up at Keith.

“As you said, I need to shower before even getting near the cafeteria. Go eat Hunk’s nuts.” With a smirk, he closes the door, leaving Lance sputtering on the floor, tripping over his own words in an attempt to find an adequate comeback. And just like that, he missed his window. _Fuck. That fucking jerk._

 

Lance returns to the cafeteria for a short pit-stop in his epic quest of team gathering, only to find Hunk surrounded by Allura and Coran, both looking distinctly impressed. They are all staring into the oven, presumably as Hunk’s cookies are baked. Shiro is seated at the table, reading something on a tablet.

“Are they done yet?” Lance asks, joining the gawking crowd.

“I’m not sure, but they’re changing colors! Look!”

Lance looks along Hunk’s pointing finger, and indeed; the cookies are changing about every 3 seconds or so, cycling through the colors of the rainbow. “Whoa!” Lance erupts. “That’s awesome! Space cookies, bro!” He holds up his hand towards Hunk, who high fives him. “Can you imagine how much these would go for on Earth? I mean, they’re rainbow cookies. I’ll bet pride day alone could bring in a year’s pay.”

“That’s actually a really good point,” Hunk agrees, chuckling. “We’ll have to see how they taste before you start designing my bakery, though!”

“What’s pride day?” Allura asks.

“Uh…” Lance deadpans.

Shiro comes to his rescue. “It’s a day where people celebrate different types of sexual orientations.”

“That seems rather odd,” Allura replies.

Coran looks vaguely confused.

Shiro shrugs. “It’s Earth. I didn’t think anything would surprise you anymore.”

Allura shakes her head. “I don’t think Earth will ever cease to surprise me, to be honest.”

Hunk opens the oven, and they all take a step back to make room for him. He sticks a fork into the cookies, and declares them done. As they’re all staring at them from afar, Pidge returns.

“Look, Pidge, rainbow cookies!” Lance exclaims, marveling in her look of confusion.

“What?”

“Careful guys, hot stuff coming through,” Hunk says, taking out the tray and setting it down, leaving it to cool for a couple of minutes. Using a spatula, he sets a bunch of them on a plate, and carries it over to the table where Shiro is sitting. Everyone follows in his wake, settling into chairs, and grabbing a cookie each. Lance bites into his first.

He promptly spits it out.

“Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew,” he says, trying to wipe his tongue with his sleeve. Around him, the rest are sharing similar reactions – except Allura and Coran.

“This reminds me of something my mother used to cook for me when I was a little girl!” Allura says excitedly. “I can’t recall what they were named, though. Do you?”

Coran shakes his head. “No, but you are right, they taste pretty familiar!”

“You _like_ this?” Lance asks, disbelievingly. “No offense, Hunk.”

“None taken,” he replies. He’s at the sink, gurgling water.

“Oh yes, I think it’s quite delicious!” Allura says, matter-of-factly.

“You can have mine,” Pidge says, handing hers over. “So, guys, look, I’ve put in some calculations, and I’ve managed to construct a calendar that should approximate the time passed on Earth since we left. I’ve had to make some guesses on the effect of relativity, you know, time dilation and space contraction and all that, since I don’t have any exact data on how fast we’ve been traveling. The wormhole trips are a pretty big possible error, as well. But, I think it should be within a margin of around 15%, so take it or leave it. It’s the best I can do with the data I have at hand, anyway.”

Lance stares at her with an open mouth. “Pidge, have I ever told you, you’re a genius?”

“Repeatedly,” she responds dryly. “So, I’ve concluded, we’ve almost completed a full year away from Earth. Sometime next week.” Her voice sounds dreary. _She looks so tired_ , Lance thinks.

“What’s a year?” Coran asks.

Pidge pauses, seemingly doing a quick calculation. “About 300 quintants, I think.”

“Oh, OK.” Coran’s mustache twitches as he bites into another rainbow cookie.

Lance hardly notices. His ears are ringing. _Almost a full year_. _That means it was baby sis’s birthday no more than a week ago. She must’ve been so excited. All the cake; man does that kid love cake. I would have baked her one with chocolate. Mom would probably do something with strawberries. God, do I miss cake. Mom’s cake. Did she make a chocolate one too, on my behalf, for the birthday? Did she have the time? ...did sis have to make due without? Did she miss me? Did she wait for me to come home from the academy, like I always do? Does she even understand any of this? She’s so small. No, she_ was _that small. Now she’s almost a full year older. She’s probably changed a lot. And I’m missing out on it. I’m missing out on everything._

_I miss them all so much. Sis, bro, mom, dad, even nanna –_

_Wait, mom and dad  – their anniversary. Their 20 th anniversary. That would have been about a month ago, wouldn’t it? Did they go out like they talked about doing last year? Or did they stay in?_ He glances up, watching Shiro and Pidge discuss without hearing a word of it. They don’t look too cheerful.

A realization strikes him. _I can’t believe I’m worried about this. Shiro’s entire team got abducted by aliens, and all of Pidge’s family is still missing. I bet she misses them at least as much as I miss mine. Only, my family is safe back home on Earth._

_Oh, what difference does it make? They’re out of my reach, all the same. Only, it’s not the same. They are OK. I don’t have to worry about them being tortured. Being killed. Being…_

Lance glances up again. Shiro is patting Pidge on the back, rubbing a small soothing circle. She’s teary-eyed.

He swallows thickly. There’s a lump in his throat.

_She misses her father and brother. Of course she does. She has no idea where they are, or what’s happened to them. What if it were my father and brother? How would I feel? What would I be willing to do, willing to give up? Would I leave for space willingly, to hunt them down? Probably. I’d go to the ends of the universe to save lil’ bro. The little tyke. He must be getting so big now. He was starting school this fall. I missed that, too. I missed his first day of school. It was the only thing he talked about when I was home last. He wouldn’t shut up about it. It passed by without me, just like everything else that’s happened to them in the past year. They’re living their lives, and I’m up here, getting beat up by aliens._

_I can’t even speak to them. I wanna talk to mom, so bad. Hear her voice. See her smile. Listen to her laugh. I just wanna go home. I wanna hug them and kiss them and tell them I love them, and –_

_Wait, do they even know I’m alive?_

_Do they think I’m dead?_

_Do they think I’m injured, or missing, or…?_

_Did they move on?_

_Are they even waiting for me to come home?_

Lance gets up. He can’t see through the tears in his eyes. He leaves in silence without looking at anybody, his departure covered by the conversations going on around him. As he gets to the door, he vaguely registers them opening without him pressing the button, but he pushes through all the same, and heads for his room.

The quiet of the ship, which seemed so eerie and haunting a mere hour ago, is now more of a blissful solace. Lance is accompanied only by his own footsteps, and the ringing in his ears. He gets to his door, and opens it. Somehow the button is heavy to push; like it won’t give in under the weight of his finger. It frustrates him a lot more than it should. _Why can’t something just fucking work the way it’s supposed to? Why can’t anything ever be easy?_

He gets through the door, and as he stands just inside his own doorstep, all the frustration from a moment ago seeps away. A heavy emptiness settles over him instead.

_Either they care that I’m gone, and they’re in horrible pain not knowing what’s going on, and just waiting to hear something, anything, that’s better than what they’re imagining. Or, they don’t care at all, and I’m not just alone in space – I’m alone, period._

Lance can’t quite decide which is worse. _Pain of your own, or the pain of knowing someone you love is suffering?_

The door whooshes open.

Taken by surprise, Lance turns to see. It’s Keith. He’s panting, like he ran. “Keith.”

Keith looks at him, studying his face. “Lance. Are you…?”

“What?” Lance can’t keep the faint annoyance out of his voice. _This is not the time, mullet._

Keith takes a step forward, entering the room. “I saw –” he hesitates. “It doesn’t matter. Are you okay?” For some reason, Keith sounds worried. Like, genuinely so, which sounds kind of weird coming from him.

“Uh, yeah,” Lance says, faking a small laugh. “Hunk’s cookies made me a little sick to be honest, so I just thought I’d lie down. You’re not stalking me, are you?”

Keith doesn’t answer, doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Lance has spoken, in any way. He takes yet another step forward.

Instinctively, Lance steps back. He curses under his breath, hating that he’s let himself be intimidated by Keith like this. Keith doesn’t seem to take any notice of it, though. Lance glances down, and notices his own hands curled up into fists. He relaxes them, and looks back up at Keith, who just opened his mouth.

“Lance, are you sure that’s all?” He sounds unsure.

“I’m fine,” Lance insists, ignoring how stilted and fake his voice sounds. Keith’s gaze burns a little, almost as if he can see the lie on Lance’s skin, and Lance looks down again. His fists are clenched once more. Shaking his head, he tries to not think about how the lump in his throat seems to be growing bigger. How the hole in his chest feels like it’s expanding. How the longing in his heart is weighing him down so heavy it feels like he’s gonna be crushed. How it feels like he’s drowning.

“Lance…”

He looks back up at Keith, only to find that he can’t see him. There’s not much more than a big blur, no matter where he looks.

“I know you miss your family.”

The word causes a searing pain to travel through his body. Lance swallows, and does his best to ignore it. It doesn’t fade.

“You know, you can talk to me if –”

“No, Keith,” Lance interrupts him, voice low. “You don’t know. And I can’t talk. I can’t talk to anybody, because we’re a goddamn universe away, and I can’t call, and I can’t visit, and the days just keep slipping away, and I’m missing out, I’m missing everything, and I just wanna go home so bad I think I’m gonna choke–” Lance can’t tell where Keith’s face is anymore. Hasn’t been able to in quite some time.

“– and what if they don’t _care_ –” his voice cracks, and he feels stupid, but he’s too angry to slow down or turn around.

“– what if they don’t _miss me_ –” tears run down his cheeks, and he wipes at them angrily. Keith steps closer to him, holding his arms up defensively, but it doesn’t matter. He might as well have not been there, for all the good he does.

“– we’ll never get back home, and not that it matters, because if we don’t take out Zarkon first, everyone’s just gonna die anyway, but how can we? How can we possibly expect to get out of this in one piece? And then, get back home to Earth? I’ll never see them. I’ll never get to hug them, never –” His voice fails him, cracking open, and then disappearing altogether. The lump has grown big enough to keep him from breathing. He opens and closes his mouth, like the most pathetic fish that ever managed to stray onto dry land.

Lance tries to catch his breath, he really, _really_ tries, but he can’t. He gasps, desperate for air.

“Hey, hey, relax, calm down, you’re OK –” Keith starts, taking the last few steps, grasping Lance by the shoulders. His eyes are flickering between each of Lance’s.

Lance looks straight at them, running out of air, and the rickety remains of his facade crumbles away. He tries to speak, tries to tell Keith that no, no he’s not OK, that he can’t calm down, that he can’t _fucking breathe_ –

And then he sees that family photo in his mind’s eye. The one he saw during the early stages of Paladin training. And that’s when he finally falls. He comes crashing down on his knees, Keith following him down. A sob wrecks through him. The pain in his chest is too much to bear – his feet give in under him, and even if he was already on his knees he falls forward against Keith, silent cries falling out of his mouth, taking his breath from him again and again and again. He clutches at Keith’s shirt, hands locked into fists so hard it hurts and his nails dig into his skin. Keith frets and asks him what to do, as he weeps uncontrollably.

It hurts. It hurts more than he ever thought anything could ever hurt.

Keith stops asking. Lance isn’t capable of answering him, anyway. Instead, Keith puts one hand around his back, while the other cradles his head, holding it tight against his chest.

“It’s gonna be alright. I promise, it’s gonna be alright. Even if you don’t believe it.”

It takes Lance several moments before he’s drawn enough shuddering breaths to speak. He chokes out his words between sobs. “No, it’s not. I’m alone. It doesn’t matter that they are OK. I’m all alone. I’ll always be alone.”

Keith stiffens against him. “Don’t say that. You’re not alone. You have us. You have me. You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. Just be patient. You’ll go back home. You’ll see your family.” Keith rants, repeating himself, and adding new soothing whispers to the collection as they come to him.

Lance weeps, and Keith holds him, whispering sweet, sweet lies that Lance doesn’t believe, but lets him tell anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so I found the following prompt a few days ago, and then an idea struck down like lightening, and I had to write it. It was 3k in 3 hours, and the quality was horrible. Then over the next few days, the lovely [obsessionandstuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessionandstuff) managed to beat it into shape, and it finally took the form you see now. The word beta is too small to describe the amount of work you have done. Thanks dear, you made this happen. <3
> 
> [Prompt:](http://stopmyships.tumblr.com/post/159627048518/langst-prompts)  
> -We all know Lance is homesick. But what happens when Pidge figures out how to make an accurate calendar of earth? Lance realizes just how much he’s missed. And even then, its only the tip of the iceberg. Lance’s little sister? Her birthday passed a week ago. His parents? Their anniversary was about a month ago. He missed his little brother’s first day of school. The team doesn’t notice Lance leaving the room. They dont see the tears falling from his wide eyes. They dont hear his door shut or his muffled sobs as he slides to the floor. Because Lance didn’t know it would hurt this bad. To realize you’ve been in space for almost a year. To realize that, next week, your family would be facing the first year anniversary of your disappearance.  
> [~Stopmyships.tumblr.com ](http://stopmyships.tumblr.com/)


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